Taken by Fire (15 page)

God, the gnawing hunger still ate at her, and even the slightest feeling of having an empty stomach sent her into a panic, which was why she ate constantly. Food was both a comfort and a necessity for her own mental health.

“So you were always hungry?”

She blinked hard as the memories flooded back, because the thing was, the starvation was tied to a time in her life that was absolute hell. There had been so much experimentation, training, poking, prodding, and fear.

“Always.” She looked down, not wanting anyone to see how much the food thing really bothered her, how terrified she was that Itor could do it all over again. “Now when I’m hungry, the memories …” Shuddering, she trailed off. She’d given them too much ammunition as it was.

Ender uttered a low curse, and Stryker disappeared to the back of the plane. He probably thought she was completely psychotic. He was probably right.

And then he was back, dropping the table from the compartment next to her and setting down a plate with a wrapped ham and cheese sandwich. Gratitude made her eyes swim, and she barely squeaked out a “Thank you” before digging in. In no time, the sandwich was gone, and he brought her another, plus more peanuts—which she covertly tucked into her pockets—and a carton of milk.

She inhaled the second sandwich and milk, and when she asked for a third, he gently put his palm on her leg. “You don’t need to gorge yourself or hoard food. We don’t starve people at ACRO, and what you told us isn’t going to ever be used against you.”

Oh, God, he knew what she was doing. He knew she was filling herself up to the point of discomfort because she didn’t know when she’d get another meal. Stryker understood, and he was doing what he could to help her.

“It’s so silly,” she whispered.

Stryker shook his head. “I’d say that if the only issue you have after what you’ve gone through is a need to keep yourself fed, you’re in damn good shape, and it’s not silly. It’s survival.”

“Speaking of survival, are you ready to let me knock her out?” Wyatt cleared his throat and offered an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, man, but I hate flying anyway, and I’d feel a lot better if she was catching Zs and we didn’t have to worry about the plane’s engine freezing out or a fiery hole being blasted through the cockpit.”

Mel didn’t blame Wyatt at all. She was surprised they’d let her stay awake as long as they had.

“Can you give us a minute?” Stryker asked, though his tone said it wasn’t really a question. He was taking the minute whether they liked it or not.

Ender hesitated, but then he moved to the back of the plane.
Avery turned to look out the window, and Wyatt took a seat a few feet away. Close enough that he could be there in a heartbeat, but far enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

“Look,” Stryker said in a low, hushed voice, “I’m still not sure what to think about all of this. I don’t know where my head is at, and I can guarantee that at ACRO you’ll find few allies. Is there any way you can prove what you’re saying?”

“You mean, can I prove that I’m a completely different person from Phoebe?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “A few genetic tests will do it. I’m a chimera. Two genetically distinct cells are in my body. Brain scans will show two different thought patterns when each of us is in control.” She paused. “Those people Wyatt was talking about. Are they like me?”

“Sort of. Chance is more of a shape-shifter. He was infected by an animal bite, and now when he gets mad, he morphs into the creature. He’s a little like the Hulk. He needs to be caged or sedated sometimes, but when he’s fully human, he works for ACRO like everyone else. But Rik is two completely individual beings, so a lot like you, I guess. She was an Itor experiment too.”

Mel’s pulse picked up. She wasn’t alone. “Is she … okay? I mean, how does she live?”

He shrugged. “Her other half is some sort of wolf thing her mate, Trance, named Cujo. Cujo was vicious when she first arrived at ACRO. Itor had tortured the shit out of both of them. But they’re both fine now. Rik lets the beast out to run at night, and she works in the Cryptozoology department by day.”

Hope sang through her. Maybe ACRO really could help her. If a way could be found to keep Phoebe suppressed or under control, maybe Mel wouldn’t have to die.
If
she could convince them that she had nothing to do with their agent’s death and that she was willing to do anything to bring down Itor.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“Being nice. I haven’t had that since my mom died.”

“I’m not doing anything special. Just talking.”

She tried to touch his knee, but the chain jerked her back. “I know.”

His throat worked on a swallow, and then he reached out and took her hand. Even though they’d had sex three times now, this was somehow the most tender, intimate gesture he’d made. That anyone had ever made to her.

Emotion trembled through her. She opened her mouth to thank him again, but the familiar tingle on her scalp and the tightening in the back of her neck cut her off. Damn her. Damn Phoebe for ruining this! Usually she was grateful for Phoebe to take over, letting Mel slip into blissful blackness, but for once, she was truly afraid. Phoebe would destroy every bit of progress she’d made with Stryker, and probably Wyatt too. And if Phoebe met Dev first …

“It’s time,” she gasped. “Get … Wyatt.”

Instantly, Wyatt was there, and even as Phoebe began to claw her way to the surface, Mel felt her body go slack and her eyelids grow heavy.

T
he distinct bump of a plane’s wheels hitting a runway was what jolted Phoebe out of sleep. She didn’t waste time blinking and trying to figure out what was going on; she remained motionless, cracked her lids, and assessed the situation.

Which wasn’t good.

She was chained to a seat, and a man she recognized from a file Itor kept on known or suspected ACRO agents—she thought his name was Wyatt Kennedy—was sitting across from her, hands clenched, his face pinched in concentration.

“She’s waking,” he ground out.

Someone with an English accent cursed. “Put her back to sleep.”

“Can’t. I’m about tapped.”

Fucking biokinetic
.

She heard that Stryker asshole talking to someone on a phone, heard another voice she didn’t recognize as she reached deep for her power. She had a full tank. Excellent. She’d fry these fuckers the second the chains were unhooked from the seat.

The plane eased to a stop, and she played groggy as the engines powered down. The mid-cabin, rear, and front doors slammed open simultaneously, and a dozen men in black BDUs rushed on board with fire extinguishers and some sort of blanket. Anticipation gave her a rush as she lit up her power. She was going to turn the plane into a roaster oven. Stryker’s thick arm came around her throat from behind, jerking her head back even as fire burst from her fingertips. The choke hold sent her flames into the seat in front of her, and then the men threw the blanket over her, and the fireball she summoned shot uselessly into it.

“You assholes,” she snarled.

No one said anything as she was wrapped up like a damned mummy, blindfolded, tossed into the back of a truck, and whisked to God-knew-where. There was more jostling, more chains, and then she was plopped into a seat.

Stryker—she knew by his scent—removed her blindfold.
And well, well, what do you know
. She was in a plush office, sitting across a desk from ACRO’s head honcho.

“Devlin,” she purred. “Nice to finally meet you.”

He studied her, his shrewd, intelligent eyes so like Alek’s. “I really wish I could say the same. Who are you right now?”

“Guess.”

Devlin shifted his gaze to Stryker, who had moved to stand against the wall. “It’s Phoebe.” Stryker folded his arms over his broad chest. “You can tell by the horns and cloven hooves.”

“You,” she sighed, “are no fun.” She turned to Dev and smiled brightly. “So we’ve met. What now?”

“Now I decide how long I want to let you live.”

“Ouch. So ruthless. You really are our father’s son. He’d be
proud.” In her peripheral vision, she saw Stryker’s entire body jerk. The shock in his expression was priceless. Almost as much as the brief flash of
oh, shit
on Dev’s face, which confirmed her suspicions that Melanie had already spilled the beans about Alek being their father as well. “You haven’t told anyone about our happy family? I’m hurt. But I suppose if your people knew that your father is Itor’s big dick, they’d have some serious doubts about you.”

“I’m not worried about my people.” He met her eyes, and damn, he was a good liar. She could respect that. “They know what I want.”

“And what
do
you want, big brother?”

“For Itor to be dismantled from the ground up and for Alek to be nothing but a stain in the rubble.”

Exhaling slowly, she considered her next move. Build on the family card, or antagonize him into making mistakes? Maybe both. “I can help you.”

“And why would you do that?”

She sagged in her chair as though exhausted, and looked down at her lap, which was hidden by the damned fireproof blanket. “I only learned about you a few days ago. If I’d known …” She worried her bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t realize our father was trying to destroy his own son. I hate him for that.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m your sister. Our father deprived us of a life together. Give me a chance.”

Stryker, still braced against the wall, looked like he was trying to keep his temper in check, and she got the feeling he wanted to yell at Dev, tell him not to believe her shit. “Did you give Akbar a chance?” he spat.

She summoned tears. So easy. “I was following my father’s orders. I didn’t know about my brother at the time … and if I could take it back … I’m so sorry.”

There was a shuffling of feet, and then Dev was at her side
with a tissue, dabbing the tears off her cheeks. His voice was soft, understanding. What a sap. “Our father is a very powerful psychic, isn’t he?”

She sniffled. “Very.”

Dev’s hand shot out and clamped around her neck. “So am I.” His lips peeled back from his teeth as he got right in her face. “So don’t fuck with me. I know when you’re lying.”

With a shove, he released her, and she resisted the urge to tell him how much she was going to enjoy killing him. Because she would. That idiot Maurice had been wrong—Alek might be grooming her to take over Itor, but what she really desired was ACRO. The organization was bigger, better connected with legitimate governments, but most of all, she wanted to take what her brother had. And she always got what she wanted.

Speaking of which, she slid Stryker a sensual smile. “Thanks for recharging me, by the way.”

Stryker stiffened, and Dev scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“I normally don’t tell people this, but since Stryker already knows … yes, my power runs down. And your helpful agent over there—”

“Shut up,” Stryker ground out, and Phoebe feigned an innocent look.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Dev doesn’t know that you’ve been fucking me? Tsk-tsk. You people really don’t communicate at all, do you?”

To his credit, Dev’s expression didn’t change, didn’t give anything away, but she sensed strong emotion brewing in him. He was, no doubt, wondering what the hell his agent had been thinking.

Dev returned to his chair. “What are the extent of your abilities?”

“Duh. I can burn things. I can also sprout wings and fly, walk
through walls, turn into a leprechaun, travel through time and space—”

“Enough!” Dev slammed his fist on the desk. “Are you psychic?”

“Maybe.”

“She isn’t,” Stryker said, a little testily, though she had no idea why. “Paranoid fucking Ender told you I’m compromised, didn’t he?”

Dev gave Stryker a sharp nod, and Stryker cursed but didn’t say anything else.

“Let me talk to Melanie,” Dev demanded.

“Ask nicely.”

“I have no problem stringing you up until she surfaces, so you might as well save yourself pain and me time.”

“And you should know that I have no problem with pain.” She leaned forward in her chair—as much as the blanket and chains would allow anyway. “You don’t scare me.”

A long, tense silence stretched as Dev watched her, and as much as she hated to admit it, his stare unnerved her. It was so like their father’s, and she wondered if Dev possessed the same tendency to go suddenly, unstoppably insane with rage.

“Does Melanie know about me?” he finally asked.

Oh, now here was where things would get really fun. “I don’t think so. I hope you plan to tell her, though.”

Dev’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because our father hates her. I hate her. It would crush her little world to know that her only other family, her big brother, hates her too.” She grinned. “How funny. Even funnier if you order her torture or execution. Priceless, really.”

“You sick bitch!” Stryker’s fists clenched. “Let Mel out. Now.”

“I don’t think so.”

Suddenly, the room began to shake. Panic wrapped around her like a steel band, and she clenched her teeth, fought hard to
stay calm. She couldn’t let these fucks know about her one fear.
Don’t give in, don’t give in …

The room shook harder, and a crack formed in the wall. She heard Dev’s voice, Stryker’s, and then it all became too much for her. She closed in on herself, but she’d be back. With a vengeance.